


Calling All Angels

by hunteriheroici (spacebarista)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-03
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-13 20:09:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/828349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebarista/pseuds/hunteriheroici
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben's smart enough to know something's eating at his mom. He thinks it's everything that's happening, so he prays for help. And Castiel is there to listen. (During the events of Swan Song)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Calling All Angels

**Author's Note:**

> My friend prompted me: I want a fic where it’s like right when Dean goes to Lisa and Ben prays to an angel, any angel, for Dean, and the angel who hears him is Cas.
> 
> So, this is what I put together.

Ben may have been a kid, but he wasn’t dumb. Something was... _off_ about his mom. 

Her smiles always reached her eyes, she always meant them. She was always sharp and alert to keep him from misbehaving. She was always moving, never sitting still for too long. Her hugs and (ugh) kisses were always full of love and happiness and warmth. He didn’t like to say it too much, but his mom was _awesome_. 

But for the past few weeks...

Her smiles were different. She didn’t smile all the way and her eyes were always sad. She would stare at something for a while, sometimes out of it and not paying attention until he called her name loud enough. She would stand by the front window at night, watching the streets for something, wringing her hands and looking at a photo she won’t let him see. And when she hugged him... 

It felt like when Dean saved him from the weird monsters. When she hugged him because she was scared he’d been dead and she was happy he was back. It felt like she was scared she would lose him. 

She was always watching the TV. She tried to not let him watch with her, but he would listen from the next room or find out from his friends. He wasn’t dumb. 

Things were happening. Scary things. Storms and fires and lightning and _death_. And his mom would sit in front of the TV whenever the news was on, shaking and biting her lip and looking like she might cry. She looked like she was looking, _praying_ for something, that he couldn’t figure out.

But she never found it. 

She’d just put him to bed, before returning to the living room. All of the scary things had stopped a few days before, and she watched the TV less, but she still waited downstairs for hours before going to bed. He didn’t know what was wrong, and he didn’t know what to do.

He wanted Dean to come and fix it, like he did last time. He wanted Dean to find out what was wrong and take care of it so he’d have his mom back. That’s what Dean did. He helped people and brought people back when they were lost. He made people happy. He could make his mom happy.

So Ben did something he rarely did. He climbed out of bed, knelt on the carpet, folded his hands together... and _prayed_. 

“Dear God. Or the angels, whoever’s being the operator right now. 

My name’s Ben. Ben Braeden. You’re supposed to know that, but I want to make sure because this is _really_ important. My mom is really sad. I don’t know why, but I know a lot of bad stuff is happening, and I think she’s scared. She keeps looking out the window and I think it’s because she’s making sure nothing’s coming for us. Because she’s awesome like that.

She’s always done everything for me. It’s been just us for so long and I want to do something good for her. But the only thing I can think of is Dean. His name’s Dean Winchester. He’s really awesome, too. He’s something called a hunter, and he saves people. He saved me once! It was so cool. When he was here, he made my mom smile. And sometimes she talks about him, and it’s always really nice things. If he can help my mom and make her happy, I want him to come here. He’d make me happy too, but my mom does that for me already, so I want this for her more.

Please, please, _please_ bring Dean back. My mom needs help. We need him. Please. If you do this, I won’t ask you for anything for Christmas.... and... and my birthday.

Just bring him back. For my mom.”

He waited, eyes closed, for something to happen. He knew it was a bit dumb of him, but he wanted to see if someone would help him. He thought he heard the sound of wings beating, but when his room remained silent, he knew he was just imagining it. With a soft sigh, he climbed back into bed, and was asleep in minutes.

\----~~~==^==~~~---- 

Castiel watched the boy sleep. He could understand Dean’s belief that the boy was his son. Cas hadn’t looked into Lisa Braeden’s head to find out, but he was very similar to the Winchester man. Cas took in the room.

Posters of cars and old rock bands decorated the walls, as well as a baseball plaque or two. A picture of him and his mother sat on the bedside table. He picked it up, studying her face. She was quite beautiful, a creation his father would be pleased with, and a woman he could easily see Dean falling into bed with. Maybe even...

He knew Dean dreamt of her sometimes. Of their weekend together years before, of them doing things normal couples do, of him playing with Ben while she looked on... It was the life Dean wanted, deep down. The life he was deprived of.

He placed the picture back on the nightstand. Another prayer filtered through his mind, and he followed it... to the living room. Lisa Braeden stood at the window, worrying her lip and some paper in her hand. She looked like she hadn’t slept well in weeks, but by the grace of her own will, she had been getting enough of everything else. She wasn’t speaking, but he could hear her prayers as clear as they would be if she were shouting. “Please... _please_ let him be okay. I have to know he’s okay. I _have_ to.”

She thought of the night he came by, and he saw it with her. Dean promising her protection, insinuating that he wouldn’t be coming back. Telling her that he imagined himself happy with her and the boy. Leaving her crying at the door with a kiss to her temple and a son she’d have to raise believing he was gone. She looked down at the paper in her hand, and Cas realized it was a photograph. He moved closer to see it.

It was her and Dean, ten years younger. For Dean, it had been almost a lifetime since he posed with her in her bed, both dressed, but rumbled and smiling. He looked different. More different than Lisa, even. It was the happiness and levity and youth and courage and everything Dean must have been before he was broken in Hell. Lisa had known a Dean who let himself be himself. She was _special_. 

He didn’t need to answer the Braeden’s prayers. Dean was on his way as they prayed. Sam was in the Pit, Bobby was in South Dakota, and he was here, listening to the only other people who loved Dean enough to pray for his safety and his presence. 

He had heard enough. He knew what he was going to do. He gently pressed his fingers to Lisa’s temple, catching her as she fell asleep. He placed her on the sofa, and rested a blanket over her. When he turned back, the picture lay on the floor where it had landed after fluttering from her slackened grip. He picked it up, studying it again. 

Dean would never smile like that again. Like he had the world before him and mileage to burn. But he could try. And he could return the smile to Lisa’s face, and Ben wouldn’t worry anymore. They would be a family. The one Dean always wanted, with a woman who cared for him and a son he could parent better than his father ever could.

And Cas? Well, Heaven was without a leader, with Michael gone. Raphael would want to avenge his brother and bring about a new apocalypse to right the balance. Castiel couldn’t let him. Sam had sacrificed everything to save the world he and his brother hold dear. Dean couldn’t see it fall apart all over again, after all that loss. 

So Cas would fight his brother. He’d lead the revolution. He’d fight the war. He’d keep his family’s desires away from Dean, once and for all. Maybe he’d even... He shook his head. He wouldn’t think it, not yet. It would require planning, and there was no guarantee he’d succeed without consequences. But he wanted to do it. He wanted to do all of it. He owed it to his friend, after everything. He placed the picture under Lisa’s hand, and vanished from the house, leaving them to rest.

\----~~~==^==~~~---- 

Two days later, Ben came down from his room, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He’d been up late studying for a spelling test, and he wasn’t ready to be up. But his mom promised good luck pancakes, and she never backed out on a promise. But when he went into the kitchen, all he could smell was coffee. Had she forgotten? He _needed_ the good luck pancakes. He followed the sound of her humming into the living room, and froze in the door.

His mother sat on the couch, drinking some hot coffee and humming softly. She was normal again or... close to it. And lying on the same couch, his head in her lap as he slept, was Dean Winchester. When she saw him, she held a finger to her lips, pointing for him to go into the kitchen. He did so, barely managing to keep from screaming, listening to her say something to the man before joining Ben in the kitchen.

Ben beamed at his mother. “He came back,” he whispered, punching the air. “I _knew_ they’d do it!”

His mom smiled, her head tilting in confusion. “Knew who would do what?”

“God! The angels! I don’t know! I prayed for him to come back, mom. To help you be happy!”

Her smile faltered a bit, and she ran her fingers through her hair. “You didn’t have to do that, baby.”

“I did too!” He paused, frowning. “Wait, does this mean I won’t get presents for Christmas or my birthday?”

She laughed and shook her head. “No, sweetie, you will, don’t worry. You did a nice thing for me But...” She chewed her lip, looking out into the living room. “You have to give Dean some space, okay? Just for a little while.”

“Why?”

“Because...” He could see her trying to think of a good thing to say. He wasn’t dumb. “Because we need to help _him_ be happy, and I think giving him some quiet time will help a little. You get me?”

Ben wanted to ask why he needed help to be happy. Dean was big and strong and brave. What could make him sad? But he nodded, keeping his questions to himself. “I get you, mom.”

She smiled, ruffling his hair and moving to the stove. “Now, I believe I promised you pancakes...”

That night, Ben prayed again. He thanked whichever angels brought Dean back, and hoped he’d feel happy soon.

And he asked that they make sure he got a good spelling grade.

He got an A.

But Castiel had nothing to do with it.

No time to help kids with a war going on and people to raise, you know.


End file.
